Phantom Recall

13 || no mercy for the monsters

Leon, Iver, and I take a bus to the spirit lounge.

Thinking about it, I suppose there really is no other way for ghosts to get around on their own than public transportation. Not inconspicuously, that is. And since I haven't heard any reports of passenger-less vehicles driving around the city, I take it most ghosts have at least some standards about disturbing the peace of the living.

Certainly not phantom beasts...

My mind is too busy dwelling on the events of this morning to allow awkwardness to settle. Leon and Iver spend most of the trip chatting amongst themselves, anyway — and by that, I mean Leon goes into depth about the history of a card game from the 19th century and I occasionally catch Iver nodding when my eyes wander over to where the two are seated. I can't merely observe them in the window's reflective surface, after all; we have no reflections.

Soon Leon taps my arm.

"I gave you your quiet time, but you have to be responsive now."

There's a distinct lack of aggression in his voice that almost throws me for a loop. The bus has stopped. When I turn to find both him and Iver already on their feet, I can't help but notice the scowl on Leon's face has grown less intense, as well — still very much present, however, and I have my doubts he could ever wear a truly peaceful expression.

I bite the edge of my tongue and follow the two ghosts to the front of the bus. How peculiar, I think, that Leon purposely waits until the door has opened for one of the other passengers before signaling us to step off. And from there it's a brief and silent walk down that familiar sidewalk leading alongside the train tracks. My eyes zeroed in on the door, I anticipate its sudden opening, and for Echo and her darling duo to emerge from the lounge wielding their trusty makeup brushes, ready to play me for a fool again. But no, in the end, as we close in on the door, it's Iver who speeds ahead just in time to open it for us like the obedient helper that he is.

Stepping into the spirit lounge is no less overwhelming the second time around. Not merely the crowd of ghosts present in such a wild and jovial setting, but this place's existence alone is still something a bit difficult for me to process. Even the air feels off, as though I'm breathing through a filter, and it clouds my head but somehow in a way that isn't so unpleasant.

I begin to follow in Leon's footsteps while spinning my head in circles.

"You look like a chicken," he remarks, glancing at me over his shoulder. He's stopped walking now. It appears we arrived to our table from yesterday without my realizing. As he scans me with his signature judgmental glare, Leon removes his coat, drapes it across the back of his chair, then lowers himself to his seat. An aura of grace and nobility. I hate to entertain the thought of him actually being part of a royal lineage.

"Yeah, well...it's some coop you've got here." I clear my throat and claim a seat as well, drawing my attention to Iver who somehow has already retrieved the chess set. All neat and packed up in its special case. It is quite a beautiful set, I have to admit. I can see why fanatics of the game would go out of their way to obtain such a luxurious possession.

Leon starts to set up his side of the board. This time, I do the same.

"I should say you are lucky they weren't scratched."

The urge to roll my eyes has oddly died down. I suppose the guilt for having misjudged the man has come back to bite me after all — presumably, that is. I still get strange signals from Leon but at the very least, I can swallow my pride enough to admit he helped us out big time today. And I know that he didn't have to, either. It was never his job to begin with, yet I barged in here yesterday with a groundless expectation for him to do just that. To fulfill a duty he had never been assigned.